


The Candy of Friendship

by apollofastingdionysusdrunk (orphan_account)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexuality, Halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 03:05:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2531732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/apollofastingdionysusdrunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac goes trick-or-treating. Features triumvirate friendship and asexual Combeferre.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Candy of Friendship

Halloween had never been a favourite holiday of his; a major portion of the reason is in due of his family. His father would visit the pub he frequents every week as usual, getting himself intoxicated out of his mind until he became nothing more than a slobbering mess. His mother would call her trashy boyfriend and spend the night at his apartment, which would be fine because he didn’t want to see her lipstick stains and blurry eyes the morning after and hear her complaining of a headache. As for his siblings, Julien the older brother would crash at some wild party - which usually ends with him calling Combeferre to give him a ride home - and his fourteen-year-old sister Mari would lock herself in her room and gossip with her friends on the phone. 

That was the kind of cordial relationship the Combeferre household had.

But, what’s worse though, is the look of disappointment on children’s faces when they knock on their door for candy. He had none to offer. Sometimes Combeferre will stack some Mars and Twix for the trick-or-treaters, but mostly he felt a childish impulse to join them too. But that’s not the kind of thing most sixteen-year-old teenage boys do. 

That would only add to his list of oddities: he’s quiet, he talks of strange things, he goes to science conventions for fun, and he’s asexual. So he’d settle for a (hopefully) peaceful night of reading the most recent science fiction novels he purchased at the nearest bookstore that day. 

But nothing is much of a distraction from one particular painful memory conceived the week before, palpable to the others.

‘’Asexual?’’ his mother looked uncomfortable. ‘’Maybe you’re in that phase where you think intercourse is gross and yucky. You know how boys are.’’ 

‘’Mum, that ‘phase’ was targeted at eleven and twelve year olds. Sixteen-year-olds are experimental, and I’m not grossed out at sex. I just have absolutely zero interest.’’ 

‘’Yeah, I can’t imagine you having sex,’’ Julien cackled, barely looking up from his phone and texting fingers.

‘’That’s good. You shouldn’t imagine your own brother in bed.’’ 

‘’See? What’d I tell ya, Laisha?’’ His father, Philip, grunts, after stuffing a cigarette between his chapped lips. ‘’I always knew there was something wrong with Matthieu. With that uptight attitude of his, he won’t be swooning any girls anytime soon.’’ Philip smirked his thin, cracked lips at his middle child. ‘’Well, at least you’re not a fag.’’ 

Not for the first time in his life, Combeferre wanted to deck his dad. The fact of the matter was, he knew he was a biromantic asexual, knew it since he was fourteen when he had a cute little girlfriend, all the while nursing an unfortunate crush on one of his best mates - a boy. But it didn’t matter, for that friend transferred to another part of France by the end of the school year and an excited Facebook message of a female summer fling from him confirmed his heterosexuality. 

He spends the evening working through his shift at the American restaurant down the road, the place practically blooming with Halloween equipment and decoration, which lightens his mood and made him somber both. Even as a kid, his family never celebrated Halloween - but thank goodness this treatment didn’t apply to Christmases and birthdays, because that’s where his mum’s sister and husband came to visit. Their visits always held a promise to joviality, and gifts were a definite guarantee.

When his shift ends, he made his way home as the sun began to dip beneath the Parisian rooftops, dusk pressing against his sweater and worn-down jeans. He expected to meet a house scarce of family members with the TV news blaring in the background, dirty dishes in the sink, and a hollow presence of emptiness waiting by the doorway. 

What he did not expect to see was a shirtless car wreck victim and a sexy bunny lounging on the couch, the former flipping through one of his sister’s dating magazines with an amused expression, the latter checking his watch and looking the epitome of utter boredom. 

They were Courfeyrac and Enjolras, boys whom Combeferre always got along with. They’ve taken the same route home, so that’s where their conversations usually took place. Living coincidentally on the same street, it was easy to hang out in the weekends, not at the common places like malls and the movies and at parties, but they’ve taken trains to art galleries, public science lectures, smoky French cafes, the Seine, and even the LGBT group Combeferre and Courfeyrac visited frequently, Enjolras sporadically. Which was funny because most of the gay guys at the group were disappointed to see the usual absence of their pretty friend. 

Enjolras was good-looking in a way that transcended gender: glossy blond hair, brilliant blue eyes that ‘holds your soul captive’ or something his sister had gushed on about, skin ‘as white as beautiful, untouchable marble’ (Combeferre solemnly swore he would never wax poetic about his friends’ skin), and pouty red lips. Combeferre might not harbour a crush for Enjolras, but he admits his friend was indeed very attractive, though he seemed almost oblivious and immune to the way he looks. 

It didn’t help that Courfeyrac was quite a handsome guy as well, with his sun-kissed skin and impressive muscles he received from hardcore swimming every morning and after school. His mischievous grin gained many admirers, and he had his bravado and effortless ways of flirting that made girls and guys blush, coupled with his carefree nature of openness...well, let’s say Combeferre paled in comparison. 

‘’Hiya!’’ Courfeyrac lifted a brow that implies the ‘’oh please, girl’’ look. ‘’Nice costume, I can tell you’ve put tons of effort into it.’’

‘’I didn’t know you guys were going to be here!’’ Combeferre grinned. ‘’What are you, anyway? Car wreck victim?’’ 

Enjolras smiled. ‘’Nope, your victim,’’ he leaned to dig in his backpack and pulled out a werewolf mask, handing it to Combeferre. ‘’Courf insists.’’ 

‘’Oh, cool! You guys knew I wasn’t going to dress up?’’ He felt touched that they considered him. He was not an only child, but he did spend a fair amount of Saturday nights alone, so this was new. 

‘’No offense dude, but you don’t seem like the type of guy for Halloween,’’ Courfeyrac winked, standing up. ‘’However, the mild gentleness of a scientific philosopher will fall away to reveal the mean scary beast inside of you soon enough.’’ 

‘’At least there will be free candy!’’ 

Not far from their downtown neighborhood was another one of tiny one-story houses. They sauntered through the area together, and Combeferre pulled on the werewolf mask. His costume, in contrast to Courfeyrac’s crafty makeover and Enjolras’ adorable (a rare word to describe his friend, but people can change) bunny ears, was ultimately unconvincing. He was still in his jeans and sweater, and though those fit the pack, a pair of hairy gloves and a more intimidating exterior could have improved his appearance. If there is a mean scary beast, then it is hiding itself superbly well. 

‘’When is the last time you guys have done this?’’ Combeferre asked. 

‘’Fourth grade,’’ Enjolras called over his shoulder. 

‘’Are you kidding? I do this every year!’’ Courfeyrac laughed, throwing an arm around Enjolras’ shoulders. ‘’You know the extent I have gone through to drag this guy from his papers? What more do you want, Enjolras? We’re with friends, we’re in cool costumes and we’re gonna get free candy. Halloween is like a saving grace.’’ 

‘’It’s rather childish,’’ Enjolras admitted, though Combeferre can see the beginning of a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. ‘’We’ll look foolish being seen among the little kids, and I wouldn’t deem our costumes to be cool.’’ 

‘’Yeah, you look smoking hot. And how stupid is the guy who actively picked arguments with teachers and managed to organize a rebellion against the school system afraid of looking foolish? You get a kick out of pissing adults off.’’

A pause. ‘’Yeah, that’s pretty true.’’ 

The last of the sun basked on them when they rang the bell of the first house, a white suburban one with an abnormally clean lawn. The woman was polite enough, even if she blinked at the three of them as if they were aliens from Mars, before giving them the candy versions. At the next house, an unshaven, unshowered man opened the door and stared at them. His breaths suggested of tobacco.

‘’Trick-or-treat,’’ Enjolras snapped, clearly impatient by the man’s staring.

‘’Halloween is for kids,’’ he sneered.

‘’We’re very immature.’’ Combeferre said. 

‘’Fuck off,’’ his glare was irate and piercing, ‘’you’re too old for this shit.’’ 

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes, and turned to Combeferre. ‘’Just as I predicted. These people are so dull they hold onto nonexistent rules, such like teenagers aren’t supposed to be trick-or-treating. Fuck that shit.’’ 

The man looked enraged; veins popped out of his neck, and Combeferre clutched both of his friends’ arms and started pulling them away towards the street. The man stepped out of his porch, evidently aching for a fight, but at the end he yelled a profanity that made Combeferre’s dad seem like a wordsmith, and slammed the door shut. 

Courfeyrac howled with laughter, and because the sound was so infectious, so did Combeferre. Enjolras forced a chuckle. ‘’Did you see a look on that douchebag’s face? He looked like he was gonna have one hell of a heart attack! Ready for the next one?’’ 

There was a sudden daring gleam in Enjolras’ eyes. ‘’Let’s give these people a show.’’ 

‘’That’s the Enjolras I know!’’ Courfeyrac nudged him. ‘’Stubborn like cold steel.’’ 

A group of children passed them on the sidewalk, a crowd of mini witches and vampires, giving Combeferre an idea. He gestured to their direction. ‘’We’ll tag along with them, pretend we’re their older brothers or something.’’ He paused. ‘’It’s not like I, y’know, care about anyone’s judgment. It’s just easier that way.’’ 

They played off the roles surprisingly well. They were fun with the kids, playing different games with them; first Courfeyrac got them shouting trick-or-treat all at once, which startled people, then Enjolras ordered them take turns saying it, tones rising higher after the first. Combeferre got them standing still and silent, a creepy effect that sent them screeching with laughter as they ate up the space of another couple of blocks. Happiness ached in his heart; the night was perfect and blooming of joy. 

Then Enjolras, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac led the children back, mischievous little jesters gobbling up their treats with chocolate dripping down their chins, to their own neighborhood safely. 

‘’I love Halloween to death,’’ Courfeyrac said conversationally as they began the walk back. Their cheeks were flushed with sweat, and the werewolf mask felt too stuffy so Combeferre took it off. Bye-bye, scary wolf. 

‘’When I was a kid, I never stopped going until my sack was full. Then I’ll go home and dump it out, then hit the streets again. One time I wandered so far I got myself lost, but it didn’t register in my mind so I just kept on walking and walking until the streets blurred and lights started dimming out. I felt like the only person in the world, like the world was in my control. Halloween was always a blast, so I get pissed off when adults say teenagers are too old, not wanting us to have fun. But there’s no point in getting mad at people who can’t change, it just makes you feel like crap. So I prefer to rebel against their judgment.’’

‘’I told my parents I’m asexual,’’ he blurted. They stopped in their tracks at the hollowness in his voice, and turned with consternation on their moonlit faces. The moon was peeping in and out between clouds, and the stars’ brightness made him feel empowered and a little bit drunk on joviality. ‘’They didn’t take it the way I wanted them to.’’ 

Enjolras, normally uncharacteristic of abundant affection, touched Combeferre’s arm. ‘’What’d they say?’’ 

‘’They were...uncomfortable, to put it that way. My dad says at least I’m not gay, better than being a ‘fag’ - no offense, Enjolras, those were his words - and my mum thinks I just have a low sex drive. As for my siblings, they don’t actually give a shit. Nobody gives a shit.’’ 

He lets himself be crushed into a hug by Courfeyrac, and it filled him with lingering sweetness. ‘’We give a shit. Come on, just one year left and then we’ll be off to college achieving more than your stupid family has ever done.’’ 

They snacked on their collected candy on the way back to their street, back to normality and the diminished excitement. The three walked across a field together, silvered by the night skies, the soil dampened beneath their feet, the tree branches outlined against the night and groaning into the breeze. The cluster of trees were a like a black curtain, a barrier they could pass through. The streetlights radiated an eerie glow, and the chilliness of the late hour finally settled in, but in that moment, Combeferre felt belonged.


End file.
